iF

Tonight I got a smile on my face... Releasing clouds from shear/tear tissue pressure.

14 October 2026

00:06 AM

Do you remember me?

We turn to the wall, one real, one fiction, it is from where you and I used to watch the moon, sunrise in the mornings, through the maze of love, eternal love, short-mid- term love, just pick your window. Was it because he is a man that made you jealous? No, I am a husband. Do you remember me before you decided to be twelve years old again, with a crush on your favourite pop singer? It was on the same frequency of eternity where we had slept and embraced, leaving nothing out,
exempli gratia, to love and hold and leave all others? What was the serenade all about? It made you lose your husband, and I had not gained that most wonderful dream in a wife. She loved my clouds when they teared out of me, shear pleasure, and she wanted instant pregnancy, a baby boy. Her children still believe in me, she said. We should try again. Poldo, his nickname, has already been half a product, but doesn't gauge just yet in time. You, dear wives, already have met your favourity male, unreal...

Or, just half of his history. Would you collapse to see him right in front of you, standing up from the soil in heaven and earth, returning your lives back to you, and pray to eternal God that He will forgive us? So many rotten apples in the heavens, who would have thought that. Merci is my wedding band, if you still love me, my darling. Lies do grow on trees, like king Laius, Oedipus and his dad. Remember all these goods, they are still our earthly riches and creating reich und reichstag, when we're

blind in disposition, young lion cubs are born blind. Just love me, my darling. The peacock stares himself blind in the mirror, how can an animal define his own beauty? I leave that to the human, male or female. Two sons, Tipon, my firstborn, Soterion, from the terion salvaged, two mothers moving blood and spirit, roses once before they were and became garden spiders. I taste their sanguinaire nature like a dog lapping water from poisons, known homemade or exotic. She will not forgive my new wife for something, a sinister word

I can't reveal. Too much exposure is not good for the music composer. If this is a cryptic story of marriage, so it is written and so shall it be done. Time again is essential to write out a new manifesto here at home, just for you and me, my darling. Poldo, from old tales I understand stands for Leopoldo. Two old hens, as they would say in England. What's in it for the old cock? Geriatric purple red or low orange sunset dust, ah, be it when you release the clouds, low as cumulus, dark, while it's raining cats

and dogs in your daydreams! I wasn't the first to say you're beautiful? There goes another bubble burst. I think I had too much to drink when we got married. But you were exquisite to gaze upon, beautiful and it turned me into a frenzie, yes. You were too good to be true, and old age can make you see fiction a little too close to dementia. Shall we go back and walk on glass once more? Now I know what young men feel like when also successful. But my wife will not be your Helen of Troy!

Tipon, my firstborn, to my ex wife. Soterion, the second firstborn to my new wife. What rare atestimony!

The bigamist memory

7 October 2026

(00:30 AM)

No poetry tonight, a night deeper than yesterday's memory, memories, Ah... I am shackled to the apple tree trunk in her garden, she is American, keeping the hidden knives behind her back then pre- nuptial, now visible to the planet whole, 82 billion you see. For the pagan soul getting out by Hermes' heels, wings that liberate, in my imaginary soul, the love I have for you, hell is no place for lovers or the bigamist amnesia. How were we found? Where, out of here in the heaven where love

was born, land, purity, the white in the snowflowers, when packed with snow. She finally got caught up with me, and cutting me up with immediate blows to my head and bowel, I can only swear to love and love only her till the day I die. Ah, the bigamist fate! But only if you know. The fever of her right to my life is getting more and more near me, and a clear wind blows my heart out of the fireplace where you and I have lived for more than a year. Father of the apple tree spoke to me yesterday, you see,

and than I knew midnight had struck more than twelve times, but I never did hear their loud chimes. A church in her grand backyard testified however they were loud and clear to the whole of the candy village in New York. Some long and wide pink ribbon, sweet confection, it is here to get the world's attention, admirers of some sweet kind. I am in a hurry to get there on time, the rendez vous where I said "I swear by God Almighty, etcetera, etcetera..." Had I misspelt 'divorce'?

3 October 2026

Eve' walk

My dear barrister...

All will be forgotten once I am gone, especially my backyard, and tonight, the short rainbow between two sides hanging in the evening clouds, sweet October early fall. Between the ribs of high smoke, in floueriscent colours, the middle of you and me. Perhaps the remainder what came after the great flood, in the night so still, quiet going our way and sail out.The night indeed was quiet, and we sailed safely through the storms and debilitating punishment of adulthood, at our old age, this fiery

and wrathful madness of known and unknown. I did not say a word, nor did you speak another word. A walk this evening through the backyard I see the grey clouds above descending however in some sort or kind. What is this small sign hanging over our heads? From God or Noah? Or remainder memory, I invited you! Old ancient symbol, you have half and for me the other half. We eat the rainbow as one.

For You...

Evening in motion, colours of the peacock, a clean story in fact, but scandalous interior archetype, when you are looking at me, close-up... Dew drops, and say your prayer, mussaf in Hebrew, meaning? Through the window in my eye the morning sun is pale, how will you remember me? I need your signature, here... You have the mouth to turn him into a fool, as we go through the motion in this clean life of ours, the longest stanza ever

written for and by me, fate! It is late, yes darling, I took my medicine, timing is everything at my age. Remember the children's nurseries, I know it's a windy moment and your hair is keeping me in riddles, colour and flow; you and me we've been here before, passers by and unknown to each other. It couldn't stay that way, however. Why, why and why? White wine dripping from underneath your feet, delicately pressed

against the threshold floor, I take a deep breath, and say no more. 20 Years what did it teach you in your heart and mind? I was fighting dragons and serpents, and getting stuck often in their jaws, you know my saviour, and yours... Our life is a political strife, a love incarnate and in search of the finishing touch. The eye and the storm, inferior to a moment's passion, ah I like you to stay with me when this all is gone.

Yours,

Taytelbaum MC..................................

Autobiography Miniature: An institution of marriage...

(For L.)

5 September 2026

Your skin and the fresh water pearls, how worthy you look, my darling. Forever sweet night with you, the vision blue of Jerusalem sent in pure white, I pray ye one another time on the wedding band, I deserve your scorn, I have been insulted, yes and that too... So proud a whisper, I am proud of you, forgive me; I am no hawk, but a turtle dove hiding in your ancient

tower. I drop my black mask, my head in carte blanche in time goes through your pain like a fiery cherub, I thank God Almighty... With beating heart the men are all valilant and waiting in line, outside courting the regal depths and highs, the Messiah will descent in the morning on the first day in Alpha, Alef? The soul of time is timeless, I do embrace you, To life, Kotel!

I am yours. Taytelbaum, MC... Autobiography miniature.

3 September 2026

22:42 PM

Circadian: nine lives

Let's have a peek into the next generation poets. That would be science fiction poetry, at the futuristic age of 16 or 45. Title, My days as a macrocosm citizen. My dad, mom, they never got here with me. I am on my own, and owning is all I know, and that is all I do, daily, basically. And it makes me wonder sometimes, who invented the scale of our world plan? I am 25 when I'm writing this down for the cat to read before his next light nap. Snigger, and I pet him. Each netizen needs nine lives.

(Inspirational poetry by Platypus and Poetry in America videoclip)

Winter mirror, a private letter for you.

2 September 2026

23:51 PM (EU Time)

Winter Mirror

The truth? When I look back it will be too late, one last time, I am looking to the right and see the high window, when my father's clock on the wall stood still. Here it is all about my father everywhere I look, with my eyes shut forever in winter freeze: how quiet you look from here where I am; and you wanted time turning and tuning, like snow before the sunlight, it feels simply forever ago from here where I am that never was.

How many words have we spoken about this moment? Have I become forgetful, thoughtless, mindless, the empty vessel all the wise are speaking of? Yet where you and I came from it was well built in a massive dream, supported by strong held beams, two storey high, and where our bed was boxed in, yes, that is what you wanted, and I. Perhaps it was that age, pointing to only one thing, love? Don't worry, echoes beyond this place, and...

I dissolve or disappear in fierce sudden. I never did grew that beard you also wanted me to have. We are a beardless nation, I know that now. I never had the heart to lie to you, and falsely feed your matriarchal needs of ancient times. I know you have been faithful to me, and I wanted nothing more than turn to stone to give you mine, for always. In another life, I meant to say a trilogy. It came in parts, one, two and three, yes, even three.

Although strangers, in retrospect we came close being of the same blood, that cursed and ferocious law of the damned, as in this place it harbours harsh judgement against truth of another kind than chosen by kin. High heavy doors of cedar, and wide, where you and I have stored our love and dreams together for all times and casting votes... Ah, how little do we know in the place that I see no more, nor you I can remember. Were you

always going to be the one of love and not lost love?

Yours,

MCTaytelbaum....................................

For you, my darling.

2 September 2026

Don't bother yourself with posh boys...

At home, sir, don't bother yourself with boys, you are posh... What are girls but butterflies, you catch them in soap bells, you chase the wind in their hair, and the world transforms to a humpback whale before your eyes, a little splash, love is for boys, remember? Bye mommy, and longing for Eton. Home is where my castle is, oh dad, I miss you already. She is so beautiful...

And the cane is still here, a relic of what is no more, Oh England! Soccer is our kingdom, to go for who we are, called the world outside... Don't bother yourself with posh boys, untamed wild(e) hearts, the teacher that taught us, lonely without favourite toys, just read as if you were in a challenge... Come out, shouting through the window in the tower, I am

here, seek and 'ye shall find'... The semester of marriage, I can only have with one girl, my wife... A stone throw far from here where I am with you, the green grass of our forever memory. How I love thee, my friend, and hell is everywhere, sir. Is your mother beautiful, Charlie? Mine is, and my dad, once was handsome, I think so. What secrets can we keep in these high

sacred walls? I know what I am going to be when I get out, so much further away from here, I'd say. I am dreaming of becoming a bank robber. Missing what's under the heaven? Sketching with my pencil where I will live, for now in my imagination and I can only see one tree. She must have seen a thousand winds coming from the east, I am bored. The chimes...

Yours,

MCTaytelbaum.........................

24 August 2026

Pearls in a swan's song

One string freshwater pearls, this morning's gift.. August swan song, the night. Secrets, what's behind the retrieve? And her tears, she is chasing the Beluga whale in the deep seas, melancholy creature, the second husband... Pearls in the swan song, and kisses, too, wrapped in gold leaf, from her eyes, one by one...

Yours,

MCTaytelbaum...............................................

23 August 2026

20:50 PM

Virgo X, Nothing new under the sun

For you, L.

Evening and this was your sunday, the memory made complete, and my promise to keep, both are one, husband and peasant, a mirror reflex when you look ravishing, at 51? The rushing of leaves in the northern winds, another evening, and mine. Will you hate me, to know me? I wished bad things, once I saw his shoulders sliding out, I wanted you to faint, and remember me, if forever mine is what it means, for the both of you. You

are looking so beautiful, frail and tender, wonderfully loving, but not a man and that is a bad feeling. It is you I want to share eternity with, but here he is, more yours than mine. Why have you been so utterly stupid to marry me? It constitutes nothing more than this repitition of nature, for beast or mankind. But wait, it is the cider appellation that goes to my head. My love is sacred, again, again, and again... And all winds are still...

Come home, my darling. I have sold the mirror for an apple, as I had dropped it and fell to pieces. Come, let's have some soup. Poule bouillon with fresh sellery, my favourite broth. I miss your pots cooking, and some for him too, the infant. 12 Noon all the land is quiet out here, and there, everywhere, a most sacret hour. I have missed you, my darling... Nothing that beats the evenruffle of the kettledrum... And wait again, oh months!

Virgo IV

21 August 2026

Near the killing moon your stomach sings, a lullaby, ancient old love, and sickness... I'm crying, you're crying, hurting the way we talk to each other, the truth is Virgo, the Virgo moon the passing of five months, you could have been with child in the meantime... Part manifesto, manifesting already, or all that is ready inside part II? But it is friday today and it will come back to rest, the beat and beast of the myth, you and me together,

remember? Reality is not similar to the myth, as it proposes truth versus fantasy. But love makes it alright, when fighting, swallowing my pride, your witness, when you see my tears... And your hair going wild with madness, I take hold of you, I love you, I love you! This child that is surely ours, mine in full moon, and I go red inside my head, the Martian sun you invoke in me, and I know that you love me again, we are near the killing

moon... Do you remember your first carrousel ride, smiling at your father? It is all here with us, too. We will see life again, you know it, too. Plain or mundane, if that happens, where will I find you, and you me? I am not curious as curiosity kills the cat, that old English phrase! My darling, be at peace with me again, I know beggars can't be chosers, but try and make friday our time again? This could be a theory, short or long straw in fate's hands...

Yours,

MCTaytelbaum........................................

Virgo

20 August 2026

01:53 AM

Fulfill the need, half glass full of thirst, water, compress the red grape to burst against the bosom of a deformed heart, night has come again, my love. In my dream the fly in the soup made no sound effects as he had hoped for and drowned quickly. Thanks but no thanks, when I think of food, preferably deep at night, I think of more than imaginations, and a better deal. Come and sit with me while I have my midnight snacks, and we

talk, smile, at each other. Life can be so simple without the heart aching. How are you doing, when fast asleep next to me? Top hat tux magician, hocus pocus, and you disappear from my side? Your dreams can affect me, you see. Another night makes a passage quitely in our galaxy, and at 69 that gives me goose bumps, even cold feet. You won't forget my birthday now will you? You know, the egalitarian thing, I remember yours, you

remember mine- thingy. I am badly in love with you, my darling. I dream and dream on how sterile beauty can make me blind. And what's for dinner tomorrow? Paleolithicum, I know, nothing else much has changed since then. And there are adult noises, too. And that's not from teenage chewing gum, but good digestion. I love you, deadly much. One last line for now: Will we make part II in so little time that I am confined to?

Yours,

MCT......................................

27 July 2026

The ambrosia heartbeat

Writing doesn't help like in so many other cases to write it off what's inside or outside. For instance when you need surgery, when you need the night to bring us closer... Thanatos holding his flaming sword or burning the torch erratically by his hand. The words were foaming with ambrosia, deep sleep syrup, honey sweet, how I loved thee tonight, before embarrassment had turned our heartbeat to brass. But it was just a glimpse of eternity, or

bridal song, somewhere where we can't see anything just yet in one life time. Ah, your beauty, the skin that is tender and China, are they all lies? In the abyss I fell where I had lost you. I sigh so simple days later, as if this night had solemnly been in writing, but solemnly even when in avarice, in lust. Humans can be flaming carnal, and perhaps a little less so than mythical beasts, please whisper to me that you still remember me?

I love you eternally, a heathen or winded up inside your ancient castle's memory, God of Abraham? I come to thee only with inclination, snowdrops, white and fresh green images, a painting, ageless in time, time that is sacred and intimate between you and me, and intimate of belief. Here is your wedding band in golden Judaism, it is on your finger, still, oh how I beg you? She loves me, she loves me not, love is simple

when you keep it. Storm or winter coldest frost, our hearts are still beating even when stopped this night, by a mistake, this human error how I curse its machineries! No, not its mysteries, for the planet's sake let that be for the good, I still almost believe naively. Humanity was always going to be the biggest plan under the heavens. As Chaim, if you remember, beast or mankind, are the only real memory in the universe, like love.

And symbolism, too. I want to come home to you,

totally yours truly, t.t.,

MCTaytelbaum....................................

Zandvoort Circuit 2024, prose.

2 May 2026

Talia

18:48 PM

The sun crashed through the windshield, and the race stopped, the deep silent echo came from nowhere, out there somewhere, Halo burned to ashes; she came running from the VIP tribune unto the track, his last words this morning to her buzzing and ballooning her mind, "If you leave me, I promise that I will kill myself. It will be my last race, I swear to you. That's it." And she knew he had already died, on his way to...

The sons were always first, first order in writing and circumcission, but his candle and light was the last one, a daughter, the perfect idyllic picture of her mother, summer's rain on her face, and she was beautiful. Why is this not real, before hitting the wall 350 miles per hour? Face to face the sun had hit him right between the eyes, the everlasting curve

disappearing from his fingertips, slow and solemn life... A template of her got stuck in his mind, half a second in his whole life, I love you... Here where destiny mysterious spinning had made a promise, after the sons, a daughter. And all ended that day that came before her, as in alive dreams. "You didn't love me enough," she will not forgive him leaving her feeling hurt

, eternally. Why did you abandon ship, he asked once, or twice. It was still happiness and love, 'our family' life, what could replace him? The ticking time of the metronome, memories do not compose their own once the music has stopped. Abruptly, he mistook her quiet for reckless neglect, his self importance had it lost its eloquence, he must have thought the last minute.

He loved her more than me, and now she never will tell him the truth. Egal (Egel), magal?

Tal/Talia, Hebrew name for fresh morning dew.

Edited

Start celebrating your birthday Taurus 2026

30 April 2026

17: 59 PM

Dormite, will we conjugate? This evening, into aurora? All through summer's thought when spring, Taurus, leaving the threshold, what can we now say? Branches falling off the boughs, streaming brown creek water, still however and yet clean, marvellous. A pass through your mind, a garden wild and with broken laurel leaves smell, I am at your feet, and counting summer's stars

At nights, how many more days can we wait for Leo's rights envisioned from your shoulders and see far into the horizon? Aurora, be still, he commands you. Fresh are his kisses in the mornings, fierce at nights. The stag that hounds the hunter, subtle and for game, who's game? A beloved deer sweet and her young, he loses. This wood, miraculous trees of old, fern

that groweth beneath the hooves of time, I and you, what speak we? And England, you wear like old shoes, inseperable from your tender feet, how much do I love thee, without your heart in mine for much longer? Laughter, but earnest, all to know how our sons will grow, Lachman... Relic from old Hebrew and do not frown your eyebrows, you won't succeed and make

me feel once again distant through ministry and clerks. Ai, it is eve today and tomorrow aurora's silk will take us to a tender place where dreams are sired by man and beast, oh yes they too have young and pink little bosoms when dropped. This earth that still feels as in her maiden voyage always life first, human next, beast last, I give this soil into your hand, marry

your handyman, your carpenter, your builder, your last love from the garden in your dream. And I am sick too, leaving you behind again so soon... I will build you that shell spiral, once, no, twice, sons of Nautilus, exempli gratia biomimicry of what we have not just yet formed, from syrrup to viscosity and proportioned within. Elohim be with you, and me, my darling.

Start celebrating your birthday Taurus 2026

30 April 2026

17: 59 PM

Dormite, will we conjugate? This evening, into aurora? All through summer's thought when spring Taurus leaving threshold, what can we say now? Branches falling off the boughs, streaming brown creek water, still however and yet clean marvellous, a pass through your mind, a garden wild and with broken laurel leaves smell, I am at your feet, and counting summer's stars

At nights, how many more days can we wait for Leo's rights envisioned from your shoulders and see far into the horizon? Aurora, be still, he commands you. Fresh are his kisses in the mornings, fierce at nights. The stag that hounds the hunter, subtle and for game, who's game? A beloved deer sweet and her young he loses. This wood, miraculous trees of old, fern

your handyman, your carpenter, your builder, your last love from the garden in your dream. And I am sick too, leaving you behind again so soon... I will build you that shell spiral, once, no, twice, sons of Nautilus, exempli gratia biomimicry of what we have not just yet formed, from syrrup to viscosity and proportioned beyond. Elohim be with you, and me, my darling.

17 April 2026

17 May,On your birthday...

00:43 AM

Taurus is a great impressionist between april and august when the wide canvas of twilight at any day of that month where it is his favourite spot and faces the setting of summer's sunset His dark and black body against the sky's flaming orange sad and and yet living This tale of the great bull is still but remains a muscular story in veiled time Here is where Taurus forgets His eyes black onyx he cannot even remember a fly

And she has turned into a flower at her age She waited long for him in the story painted violet gentlest of all wild flowers In this twilight her memories are tall as columns each row and each side she remembers the marble set in maturity and melancholy She is still pure and white at the brass hoofs of his heavy hindlegs She smiles in her dreams once than twice She knows about that to secure his name This impression on canvas must

last This twilight when the sky's orange pours out on the black of evening And make weed and grass of one greenest colour examplery of good tidings and not trampled on by beast or warrior's boots Taurus' meaning is age sealed by sturdy curls on his forehead Sometimes too in slender or wavy hair His tail and star Oh yes let's not forget his vitalities And there appears one single starlight tonight in the dark sky This earth sign everlasts...

Cinema II, For whom the bells toll

(21102025)

Scene I: opening scene music Appaloosa, Gino Vannelli. Election fever, President elect. Top view cosmopolitan city of the world. Politics: the people decide.

Scene II: bridge of fire and ice, ship sailing quietly and passing. Night sky, and bright round moon, closest to the city. Skyline, distant glass window high in the towers, skyscraper. Pillow fight a blonde woman and man in their dimlight studio livingroom.

Scene III: time here never sleeps. TV network on in the middle of the night: brown hairstyle tv news anchor, in Prussian blue tight dress code, saying goodnight, screen red lips are moving, throughout the dark hotel room. Fading sight view, skyline city, music on...
Music: What can I say, Boz Scaggs

Scene IV: fresh green apples raining down from the sky in the high wall street art and mind. Central high, busy streets, golden rush hour, people moving in synchronisation, when losing time... Cents and dimes, brass and tin for the homeless people everywhere, unanswered prayers while trust once again has swallowed the nation's pride..., the President is elected. Mystical overture.
Music: Blood, Sweat & Tears, child is father to the man

Scene V: 24/7 timelapse billboard blue & red overhead pedestrians, walk on sideboards in the crowds, going from nowhere or somewhere. Autumn.
Music: Dionne Warwick, walk on by

Scene VI: groovy love kissing at street halloween party between man & woman, woman and woman, man and man. Silent universe late at night passes in quiet motion. Chinese astrology, snake and dragon fight behind the thick rain clouds.
Music: Michael Jackson, thriller

Scene VII: lonely teenage girl in winter window, ice and packed white snow. Slipping danger everywhere in Lonely Street, the middle of the metropolitan. Weeping girl and a wave, hello or goodbye?

Music: santa claus is coming tonight, XMas instrumental acoustic jingles bouncing from high wall to high wall facades into hollow echoes. XMas presents come from the hill...

Scene VIII: rotation of earth, music Herb Alpert, rotation. New Year's Eve: happy new year colourful sparklers fireworks in the aerial night city sky orbit.

Scene IX: vision of posterity. Young man and woman christening their first born in the middle of the high roofed Gothic cathedral. Pride and fall, who wants to remember?

Scene X: short intermezzo, street corner artist playing his tune on the saxophone, long overtones. Life goes on, crossing the corners when the green LED light switches on to keep on walking.
Music: educational overtones for saxophone.

Scene XI: The End.

The dream kiss, for Lucy.

Cinema Canon auto zoom 814, 8mm, adolescence memories.

Opening Photography:

Scene I: tropical memory on the long bench, young adolescence sleeping and dreaming adolescence cinema camera windows. And radio music background.
Music: if you go away, Dusty Springfield.

Scene II: the swimming pool, blue water. Live horse swim fantasy. Longing for the deep dream.

Scene III: growing up faster. 1970 convertible Ford Red mustang with black top, drive and fade away under the tropical sun, from right to left, following to the road end view curve.

Scene IV: opening scene: music: I can't quit her, Blood Sweat & Tears. Young girls, she looks into the camera turning her head slightly to the right. Blonde and beautiful, her eyes brown and almond shaped mouth. She smiles.

Scene V: Walking into the record store. Tropical colonial style house, street view: 1950ties lane and high palmtrees. Buying Chicago 25 or 6 to 4 single record. Portable Record player in your teenager room. Few minutes music rolling soft in the background:

Scene VI: Robbie, green pilot shade sunglasses, and smiling into the camera. Young adult, 16 years old. Slim, Blond and short haircut. Friends forever...

Scene VII: lipstick on her lips and she is looking into the mirror. Boy watching her from the side, sitting in the same room. She is blonde, and her hands are like tender velvet. She looks at him in the mirror rear view... A dreamlike yearning from his eyes when looking at her... He could be a young George Harrison?
Music: Cliff Richard, the day I met Marie

VIII: A day at the airport. The flying machine of the future Jumbo 747 take off. He smiles at her and she is smiling back at him. Young love. A picture of a thousand lives in a second in the year of 1971.
Music: just one smile, Blood, Sweat and Tears.

Scene IX: evening tropical rain. Time: 19:00 hours. Young boy half naked and standing in the rain and getting soaked wet. Face in close up. Sad eyes. Eye lashes and eye brows. Sound: rain fall.

Scene X: broken vase. Pencil. Hand drawing black and white, background, white paper. Girl's eyes and face, with white pearl flowers garland on her head.
Music: taboo, Santana.

Scene XI: The End.
Motor race accident ending bad into an instant death. Quiet funeral scene, all young adolescents with some adult family members present. Tropical blue sky high above the living heads, and the sun millions of years will still shine on.
Music: Crystal blue persuasion, Tommy James and the Shondells.

Total rolling music ':

Camera info-
photography, cameras, film cameras, Canon Auto Zoom 814, Japan, 1966 - 1971, 20th century, 1960s, 60s, 1970s, 70s, technology, engineering, technologies, cine camera, cine cameras, substandard film, substandard films, Super 8 mm film, Super 8, leisure time, free time, spare time, hobby, fad, fads, hobbies, clipping, cut out, cut-out, cut-outs, historic, historical, clipping, cut out, cut-out, cut-outs, Additional-Rights-Clearences-Not Available Stock Photo - Alamy

Additional: written at age 68 years old. Europe, the European Union.

mctaytelbaum

European Union

Word of the day: animal welfare. Until it happens to you...

Animal welfare: losing your turtledoves within 12 days, what you have never lost in 15 & 13 years at home. Unless by natural course.

Animal welfare: revindication, as described here above, of your pets (7 turtledoves), is not possible.

And then what? Swallow the destruction?

t.t.,

MCT..............................................................